


Everybody Talks

by MarisaKateBella



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarisaKateBella/pseuds/MarisaKateBella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Modern!AU, Gendry x Arya. Where King's Landing City is a booming town in south USA owned by the Baratheon brothers, the Starks own a flourishing oil company in Alaska, and Gendry Waters is an orphaned boy whose secret lineage creates the biggest scandal the city has ever seen! (Much more serious then this description suggests.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Talks

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my new High School!AU, Gendry x Arya fanfiction that takes place in a mythical city somewhere in the south of the USA (think Charleston, South Carolina). Where King’s Landing is a city owned by the powerful Baratheon brothers, The Lion’s Claw Law Firm is run by the Lannisters, the most badass lawyers in all the land and the Starks own a oil company in Alaska. I hope you enjoy this fanfiction, I’ve been working hard on it. It’s a lot more serious that I make it out to be, by the way. 
> 
> Disclaimer: obviously since this is an AU everything is not going to happen exactly how it does in the original story. I had to tweak a lot of it in order to make it work. Please bear with me, I promise you it gets better in the next few chapters.

If Arya had thought she hated high school in Alaska, it is nothing compared to the intense loathing she feels towards King’s Landing Prep for Young Men and Women and it’s just the first day. She sulks in the back seat of the car, her cheek pressed against the window as she watches the brightly painted houses flash by, blurring in to a collage of color. It is loud in the cramped car and Arya’s flesh crawls from the closeness. Her cheek is hot against the glass and she wishes for the cool bite of the winter air. It is late summer and King’s Landing City is hot and stuffy with humidity. It makes Arya’s head swim with nausea, not helped by the heavy perfume scent in the form of her sister, who was wedged in the middle of the backseat between her and Theon, who was staring out the window much the way Arya was.

“Oh, I can’t wait for cheerleading tryouts. I know I’ll get it. I mean, I think so anyway. Don’t you, Robb? I’ll get head cheerleader, right?” Sansa fretted beside Arya.  
  
“Of course, Sansa,” Robb said, glancing quickly over at his sister with an indulgent smile.

Jon caught Arya’s attention in the side mirror from the passenger’s seat and smiled as Arya rolled her eyes. He was her favorite; and it was these little moments of secret communication when the rest of their absurdly large family was too consumed in themselves to notice that had decided her love for Jon. It never mattered to Arya that Jon wasn’t really her brother, but her cousin (her father’s sister’s son), she had grown up with him and as far as she was concerned he was as much her brother as Robb, or Rickon, or Bran.

Arya straightened up and crossed her arms, watching her sister fidget in the middle seat, running her fingers through her long auburn hair and applying lip-gloss with pin-point accuracy. Arya leaned across Sansa’s lap to flick Theon in the thigh.

“What?” he snapped grumpily, glaring at Arya who smiled and leaned back in her seat.

“Just making sure you were awake.”

Theon breathed out his nose and pushed his face back onto the window. Arya watched him out of the corner of her eye with a bit of a scowl. She had never particularly liked Theon; he wasn’t really her brother, and not even an honorary one like Jon. No, her father had taken him in when the rival business of Winterwell, the family oil company, had declared bankruptcy and Theon’s father could not take care of all four children.

Arya had not spoken to her father for a whole week when Theon had moved in, she had been no older then five and felt distinctly ignored by everyone with baby Bran having just been born and a new boy in the house to take up all of Robb’s time so that he couldn’t play with her any more. She hadn’t forgiven him until he took her out for her first sled-dog ride (much to the disapproval of her mother). Since then, Theon had been a bit of a sore spot in her side but they got on well enough, he had even taught her to shoot a bow-and-arrow when Robb and Jon had firmly refused.

“Is that it?” Sansa squealed excitedly, leaning over Arya to look out the window. Arya followed her gaze. Around the corner was a huge campus styled very much after a castle, Arya cringed. Everything looked so proper and in place. As they drove through the iron-wrought fence Arya felt as if she was crossing the threshold into hell and she wondered what she had done to deserve such a terrible fate. It wasn’t her fault that Robert Baratheon was clueless on how to run a town or that his former advisor had keeled over. It wasn’t her fault that her father was Robert Baratheon’s best friend and had an annoying habit of never being able to say no to someone in need (hence all the extra additions to their family: Theon, Jon, and the children’s five dogs.)

So why on earth did the universe think it was appropriate to shove her into a school of a thousand students who sat around at lunch and compared notes on whose father owned what and how much money said father made.

Robb parked the car and everyone got out. Arya unbuckled her seatbelt but refused to move, sinking down into the black leather cushions of the seat. Sansa shoved at her shoulder impatiently before giving up and crawling out the other side after Theon. Arya’s door opened and she could see Jon standing there expectantly, leaning against the side of the car.

“I’m not going,” she stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What will Catelyn have to say if she gets a phone call the very first day of school?” Jon looked off into the distance as if he was imagining the conversation. He shuddered dramatically and turned back to her with a lopsided grin. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Oh, come on. Don’t smile.”

It was a game they played. _An infuriating game_ , Arya thought. Whenever she would get sullen the only person to draw out a smile from her would be Jon.

“Don’t you dare smile,” Jon said, poking her in the side.

“Stop it, Jon. I’m not five anymore.” She pressed her lips together, the muscles in her mouth aching.

“No, you’re fifteen. But apparently that hasn’t changed a thing. Don’t smile.”

Arya’s lips burst from between her teeth and she broke out in to giggles, much to her annoyance. Jon ruffled her hair.

“You know, it shouldn’t actually count because my stupid face has uncontrolled responses.” She huffed hopping out of the car and following Jon to where everyone was standing. When they reached the group Robb handed her backpack to her, she took it with a scowl but indulged him with a smile when he looked down at her. She was the smallest of the group and the youngest. Theon, Robb, and Jon were all seniors and Sansa was a junior. She knew as soon as they walked through those doors all they would be is people who live together, no familiarities. Robb and Jon would make friends easily and Theon would follow behind; the three musketeers, the packaged set. Sansa would no doubt be come a cheerleader and Arya would run herself through with a sword before she even considered hanging out with them.

So, as they stood, side by side, brother by brother by sister by sister by friend, Arya resigned herself to a quite, social-less life on the outskirts of popularity. Nothing really was different from how things had been in high school at home, but at least back there she’d pass Robb or Jon in the halls and they’d ruffled her hair or walk with her to class. Here though, staring at the doors that held the next years of her life, Arya knew that something would be different. Robb would act the way Mother expected him to and make friends with all the rich families sons and daughters with Jon and Theon following behind as brotherly duty commands. Sansa was all too willing to play her part at the darling daughter of the Starks of Winterwell Oil Co. and it was all Arya could do not to scream and run the other way.

She was just thinking about turning tail and fleeing when the first tardy bell rang across the parking lot, making the group of young newcomers jump simultaneously. Robb stood up tall, “meet back here after the final bell. Don’t be late,” he cast his eye on Sansa while Arya snickered next to her. Sansa did her best to look outraged; she narrowed her eyes but nodded her head in assent. Everyone began to walk forward and as they cross the courtyard they blended in to the hundreds of other students making their way to the Main Hall for their schedules and homeroom assignments. Jon was right in front of her, his curly hair and black t-shirt was something to anchor herself to; as she was jostled by the crowd she felt the childish urge to reach out and grasp his shirttail, so as not to lose her way.

A second after she had locked onto the back of Jon’s head people squeezed between her, filling up the holes of space around her like water in a jar. He disappeared entirely in the pack of people and Arya found she was truly alone. Steeling herself against the isolation she moved forward with the masses, swimming with the current, doing her best to keep herself afloat. She refused to let these strangers see her drowning. When the Main Hall filled up and she had to come to a stop she looked around and realized that she must be one of the shortest people in the hall. As the headmaster began to speak, she scoped out the large hall with its tall ribbed roofs and columns that lined the wall. Pushing through people she made her way towards the columns along the nearest wall. Once she reached the closest one, she shifted her backpack into a more comfortable position and placed her foot on the low stand. It took her a minute to find purchase on the marble but the large rectangle that the column sat upon was just short enough that she could heave herself up onto it and stand up.

From her vantage point on top of the pillar’s stand, she wrapped one arm around the column and surveyed her fellow students. The hall was filled with people jostling for comfortable room, though it was mostly quiet save the occasional cough or murmur. Arya turned her attention to the balding, mouse of a man who stood at the podium at the front of the school, whom she assumed was the Dean.

“First year students will report to me directly for your assignments, sophomores to Mrs. Martell,” a pretty red-headed woman stood up halfway in acknowledgement, “juniors to—“ the Dean stopped, his eyes widened and he coughed. “Young lady! What do you think you are doing?” His hand was pointing out to someone in the crowd. Several heads turned simultaneously, including Arya’s. She stared curiously into the crowd, wondering what this mysterious person was doing to upset the Dean so much, until she found Jon’s eyes, he wasn’t searching for the criminal, but watching her. She furrowed her brow at him and he smirked. She then looked at the people around him, and the people around them, and the people next to those people…until she was staring at a thousand pairs of eyes: that were all on her.

“Young lady!” The Dean called out to her again and this time she whipped her head around so that her cool, grey eyes met his dull, green ones. She stood up to her full height and stared him down. “Young lady, get down right this instant.”

“My name is Arya Stark,” the Hall went quiet as she spoke, “and I am not a lady,” she snarled into the dead silence of the Hall. Her words echoed around the room as she jumped from her perch and disappeared. People patted her back and cheered as she disappeared into the crowd, weaving her way through to a secluded spot in the middle of the students, where she was away from the eyes of her brothers. She was surrounded by upperclassmen, or people she assumed were upperclassmen even though everyone looked older to her. One boy in particular was staring quietly at her, making her uneasy under his icy blue stare. She barely glanced at him once but she could feel his gaze on her for a long time after she looked away.

“And finally, welcome to King’s Landing Prep for Young Men and Women. Please proceed to the identified teachers for further instructions. I wish you all a good year,” the Dean glanced over the crowd as polite clapping echoed in the room, when it died down he cleared his throat dramatically. “Miss Arya Stark will meet me in my office directly following homeroom.”

***

“Arya, tell your father what you did at school today,” Catelyn Stark said in her tight-lipped voice. Arya pushed around her food on her plate while her father’s attention turned to her and he raised his eyebrows, waiting expectantly. The only thing Arya hated about being rash was the pain it seemed to constantly cause her father. He was torn between being amused at his spirited youngest daughter and disappointed at her lack of self-control and discipline.

“I had a lovely first day, father,” she sniffed, glancing towards him through a curtain of dark hair. He leaned back in his seat and scratched at his beard thoughtfully. Arya could feel her mother’s sharp gaze on her but she shoveled food into her mouth to keep from having to speak.

“Arya was sent to the principle’s office!” Sansa burst out, as if she had been waiting all evening to break the news (which she had inevitably had, she didn’t waste any time telling their mother that afternoon when they’d arrived home from school.) Arya saw the reproachful look Robb gave Sansa and her heart swelled with love for her older brother. To Sansa’s credit she immediately ducked her head and began eating quietly.

Ned Stark turned his tired eyes on his young daughter, “is this true, Arya?”

The exhausted disapproval in his tone was enough to make her eyes well up and cheeks redden with shame. “Yes,” she said in a quiet voice, staring at her plate.

“Look at your father when he’s talking to you,” her mother commanded, her voice as hard as stone.

“Yes Father,” Arya said, dragging her grey eyes from her plate to meet Ned’s.

“What did you do?”

“Well, I climbed a column in the great hall so I could see. There were so many people, Father, I felt trapped.” She dropped her eyes again, “I just wanted to see what was going on.”

Ned sighed through his nose. “We’ll talk about this after dinner, yes?”

Arya nodded her head sullenly and went back to eating.

Later, Ned found Arya on the back porch, sitting on the stone steps, petting Nymeria and whispering to the wolf-dog. When the sliding door opened and he stepped out onto the veranda Arya’s hand stilled and she ceased talking. Ned sat down next to his dark-haired child. “I know you didn’t want to come here, but please try and behave yourself, you are going to give your mother a heart attack.”

Arya turned and looked into her father’s kind and weathered eyes, her own shining with unshed tears at his disappointment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just didn’t think about it.”

Ned smiled, “of course not, my spirited summer child, but you must learn to think before you act.”

He folded her into a hug. Inside Ned Stark’s warm arms, Arya felt the true loss of Alaska for the first time. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and did not stop for a long while. When she finally regained control of herself she wiped her face on her father’s shirt. He lifted her chin with a strong hand and wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “I know you miss home, I do too. But maybe there is something here that you can do to remind you.” He smiled for the first time that night and Arya couldn’t help but return it.

“Like what?” she said eagerly.

“I have found you a dance instructor. I have been assured his is the best in all of King’s Landing City, specializing in modern techniques.”

She frowned, “mother said I can only continue dancing if,” she cleared her throat and put on a voice quite similar to her mother’s: “you leave behind these silly modern dance moves and take up a more classic style.”

Ned continued to smile, “well my summer child, you’ll just have to keep this between us then, yes?”

Arya gazed at him critically, searching his face for any sort of trickery. “Okay,” she agreed tentatively. Ned leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “Just between us?”

Arya smiled and pushed against his forehead, as she did every time they made a promise. “Just between us.”


End file.
